Born the King of Angels
by Shadowfax
Summary: Warren's having a blue Christmas... until seeing how the other half lives shows him something to believe in. T.A.S. 'verse.


reformatted: 3-8-09  
I do not own X-Men and I am making no money from this fanwork.  
Based on characters and situations from _X-Men: The Animated Series_. Takes place just before and just after the episode arc "Beyond Good and Evil."  
Inspired by: "Fearless" by dcTalk, off their album _Supernatural_.

* * *

"Born the King of Angels"  
-----

The street was dark despite all that the brightly lit windows and cheerily dropping snowflakes attempted in order to rectify that situation. People walked around wrapped up in their own thoughts, not noticing anyone else. He paused before one of the windows to examine his reflection in the glass, and at the same time looked in at the wild assembly of holiday paraphernalia that poured over the shelves and displays. Christmas carols blared unheard from every crevice. Golden angels graced every corner, and white, haloed angels blew trumpets from every shelf.

Angels within, angels without.

Warren stood a long time, looking in, and the whole time one golden-haired Gabriel stared serenely back out at him. He had never really cared for Christmas, even back when he was the age every kid loved it. He had always gotten whatever he wanted no matter what time of year it was, so why was Christmas so special? And ever since that year he had turned thirteen he had hated even more a time when people sang of angels and called for brotherhood yet always shrank away from him in fear and loathing.

He turned away from the window, back into the shadow of the alleyway, and continued on his journey. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but something had led him to this place  
and it wasn't like he had somewhere else to be- even on this night. The alley was deserted except for an old woman a few meters ahead of him who was burdened with several brown shopping bags.

Suddenly, a slim figure leapt out of the shadows and, knocking the woman over, grabbed her purse and ran. She looked after the thief with a groan that mourned more than the loss of material possessions, and curled up in the snow. With one leap Warren had jumped in front of the fleeing man and snatched the purse back. The woman looked up at him with thanks as he handed it back to her. An ominous click brought his attention back to the would-be thief, now sprawled in the snow. The muzzle of a wavering gun was pointed in their direction, and the report of its firing echoed off the narrow walls.

There was no time to think- Warren pulled the woman to him and spread his wings to protect them. The bullet bounced harmlessly off metal, and the thief went running wide-eyed from the alley. Warren looked to make sure he was gone, then turned to leave himself, before the woman recovered enough from her shock to notice him.

"Wait."

The voice halted him. He turned around, reluctantly. She knelt there in the snow, her eyes full of wonder. A streetlight behind him cast his shadow long before him, and he stood  
silhouetted against the dark sky- though he could not know it, she looked up at him and saw only her savior.

"Thank-you. You... you saved me. Wait," she called again as he attempted to make good his escape. She scrambled to her feet and came over to him. He shuddered as she touched his arm- what did she want? If he had saved her why did she wish to make him suffer? Why wouldn't she let him go? "Before you rush back off to Heaven, come eat with us. Or *do* Guardian Angels eat?"

He looked at her. Seeing her face up close, he realized she wasn't that old- maybe in her forties. Her face was worn, but with smiles instead of cares, and her eyes were open and  
honest. "What?" he asked her, not sure he had heard correctly.

She smiled at him shyly. "Well, if you don't have to rush off and save someone else then come eat supper with my family. We would be honoured."

He could only look at her with wonder. "Okay."

Her smile was like the first sunrise of spring. "Good! Come then."

She went over to her scattered parcels and picked then up. He bent to help her. She picked up the purse and, checking inside it,b sighed with relief. Loaded with food and presents, they pressed onward. The snow began falling heavier. Soon, they arrived at a door brightly lit with cheery lanterns and framed with ivy. She kicked it, since her arms were full, and a small giggling face opened it immediately.

"It's Mama! She's back!" A young boy, maybe eight years old, held the door as he jumped up and down with joy. Warren hesitated, then bent his head and stepped through the low doorway. The boy's jaw dropped when he saw him, and Warren, with a growing sense of dread, knew he shouldn't have come. Before he could drop his load and make a dash for it, the boy reached out and took his hand. "Mama, he's so cold he turned blue!"

"Yes dear, and if you leave the door open any longer you will, too." The boy looked toward the open door as if he might take his mother at her word and try it. "Henry..." she called warningly from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am." He shut the door, looked enviously at Warren, and took one of the bags. "Come on, mister, you can bring the rest of that stuff in here."

Dazedly, Warren followed him into the kitchen, where the woman and a girl of about fifteen with the same brown hair and open, laughing eyes were bustling around fixing up the food. The woman took the bags and smiled at him.

"Food's almost ready. Henry? Why don't you take the Angel and go find your brother?"

Henry's eyes widened any further. "He's an angel?"

"Yes dear, he saved my life, and the special gift I got for your sister. I'll tell you all about it later. Now, go. Find your brother."

He took Warren by the hand and led him into the next room. Standing in the middle of the parlour, he called out "Charlie! Come out and meet the Angel!" Satisfied that this would  
produce the required brother, he turned to Warren. "Did you really save 'Liza's present? She really wanted it, and we saved all year to get it for her."

"Um, yeah." Warren couldn't help just staring at the boy and his apparent inability to recognize that he should be afraid. Hesitantly he reached out and ruffled the boy's hair  
with one hand. Henry just smiled at him, unconcernedly.

"Hey, you wanna meet 'Liza? But don't tell her about the present- it's a surprise." Henry lead the way to Eliza's room. He knocked on the door, then peeked around it. "Hi, Gran. Can  
we come in?"

"You and your scamp brother in here?" answered an ancient voice. "I think not!"

"No- just me and the Angel that Mama brought home."

"An Angel, eh? Well let's see him."

Henry pushed the door open farther. He and Warren slipped in quietly. The young girl sleeping in the bed Warren presumed to be Eliza. Her pale features were wasted with illness. Seated in a chair beside her was an old woman, just as wasted away but from the fruition of years not the consumption of disease. She gazed at Warren with eyes that saw through him; he knew that she knew him for what he was with a glance, and that, amazingly, she didn't care. Eliza sighed then awoke, and Henry leaned on her bed. "Good Morning, sleepy."

She gave him a purely sisterly look of tolerance, far more knowledgeable than her ten years should have allotted her. "I know it's not morning, silly. I can smell Mama cooking supper."

"Really?" He seemed impressed, then reverted to his role as the impish younger brother. "So what are we having?"

She sniffed deeply, then smiled weakly, her energy gone already. "My favorite."

"Hey, 'Liza! Don't fall asleep yet. You've gotta meet the Angel Mama brought home."

"An Angel?" Her eyes rested on his face with fear. But then she sighed with acceptance. "Is he here for me?"

"Naw, 'Liza. He saved Mama."

Warren moved forward and knelt by her bed. She smiled, took his hand in both hers, and whispered softly, "You didn't come for me?"

"No," he could barely whisper back, shaking his head in repeated affirmation of his denial. Her smile faded from her weary face, but still shone from her eyes. A soft knock at the door  
announced the elder sister.

"Supper's ready," she said.

"Thank-you, Mary," replied Gran, pushing herself up out of her rocking chair. She touched Warren's arm to get his attention. "You can bring Eliza, if you don't mind Mr. Angel." She  
patted his arm, then accepted Mary's as a support to lead her to the supper table. Warren looked at Eliza. As he was debating whether or not to take the liberty she raised her arms  
and, wrapping them around his neck, buried her head in his chest.

He could not remember the last time someone had touched him with such innocence and trust. Gently, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her up. Henry danced before them and led the way. Seated around the table he finally met the elusive Charlie; he was a quiet boy of about six with Eliza's black hair and clear blue eyes. His eyes were wide now, and he smiled shyly at Warren. The food was simple compared to what he was used to, but Warren barely noticed. It was excellently prepared and the relaxed atmosphere, genuine conversation, and camaraderie left him reeling.

After the meal, the family moved to the parlour. There the Christmas tree resided in all its tiny glory; barely three feet tall it was covered with carefully constructed paper chains and  
popcorn and dried-berry strings. The two chairs in the room went to Gran and Warren, Eliza curled in his lap. The other children gathered on the floor around their mother. She smiled  
as she pulled a well-worn, leather-bound book from a shelf. Opening it to a dog-eared page, she asked, "Now, who wants to read the story?"

There was a chorus of "Me!"s, but she eventually decided that each of them could read a part. From the way they acted, Warren felt that this was one of the traditions of this family. He wondered what "story" it was; something about Santa Claus?

As the eldest, Mary began; her voice was firm and clear. "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world..." Warren watched the way Eliza listened attentively. "...So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee, to Judea, to Bethlehem..." Bethlehem? Oh, this was that story about Jesus then. "...with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them at the inn."

She passed the book to Henry. He frowned for a moment, then found his place. His voice was less steady than his sister's but every bit as clear, as if he knew that the words he read would change someone's life. "And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night..."

The words were familiar to Warren, though it had been awhile since he had heard them, but never in his life had he seen anyone respond to them the way Eliza did. She lay back in his lap like a thirsty traveler suddenly given water. There was an expression of pure bliss on her face, as if the speaking of those words was all she needed from life. He listened carefully, trying to discover what it was that brought them to life for her.

"...'I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord'..."

A savior? To save who from what? All people... Did that include mutants? Did not the world declare repeatedly that mutants were another race entirely- a blemish on the face of the earth, a mistake of nature that should be purged?

And yet, he looked around him- not the *whole* world, anyway. But still, who was being saved? And from what? The only saving people needed was from themselves. So... was that it? He supposed he'd heard too may times those who claimed that they would save the world from itself.

Yet... he was intrigued. Eliza wasn't the type to buy into an Apocalypse type scheme. Her faith was so pure, so full of light that he felt she would have seen right through his promises  
to the insanity beneath.

"...When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about the child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told." Charlie pronounced the words carefully as his small hand followed the letters across the page. He finished and smiled up at his mother. She returned the smile, running her hand through his hair.

"Very well done Charlie." He beamed. "Now, I think it's time for... presents!"

A chorus of "Yea!"s sounded. Henry was the first over to the tree. He pulled out several packages and handed them out to his family members. "Here Gran, this is for you... and Mary..."

Eventually all the gifts were handed out... except for one. Eliza lay smiling, curled in Warren's lap as if she already knew the outcome of this night. Around her people opened presents, and, though she had none, her face showed that she never doubted that her's would come. Warren held her close- he knew about a certain something she didn't, and he told her  
about it in the only way he could.

Finally, smiling conspiratorially, Henry darted from the room. He returned, bearing a small, gaily wrapped package before him like the most precious treasure. Eliza's face lit up when she saw it- she knew immediately what it was. "Oh, Mama!" she breathed, her hand clutched to her chest. Henry placed the box before her and backed away, grinning like an idiot. With tender, reverent hands Eliza opened the box as Warren supported her. She carefully pulled out the soft tissue paper, and, entranced, lifted out her dream. A carved wooden figurine of a lady dancing in a ball gown graced the top of a music box. She wound it reverently and out drifted the soft strains of "Blue Danube." Eyes closed, Eliza swayed to the music. It filled her with a beauty almost like the words had earlier, and a secret smile graced her face. Her family sat around her, sharing in her joy. After a few moments it became apparent that Eliza was past her limit for the night.

"Henry, go help Mary in the kitchen. Charlie can help me clean up in here." She caressed her daughter's cheek. "Would you put her to bed?" she asked Warren. He nodded, trying not to disturb the fragile thing resting in his arms. The mother smiled, and set about ordering the rest of her household. As Warren rose from the chair, Eliza stirred. She gestured for her  
music box and he handed it to her. Summoning the energy to wind it she whispered to him, "Dance with me."

No one could refuse those eyes. And who would want to? Too weak to stand on her own, Eliza clasped one hand with his while the other slid around his neck and he moved out in the steps of the waltz. The music sounded strongly from the hollow between them at first, but slowly wound down to an end. Looking up Warren saw the mother watching them from the doorway, smiling contentedly. For the first time in a long time, he felt a desire to smile in return.

He lay Eliza gently in her bed, careful to extract the music box and set it on the nightstand. She was already asleep before her head touched the pillow. Smiling at her he went in search of the rest of the family. As he passed through the parlour, the book caught his attention. Walking over he picked it up and ran his fingers over the smooth leather cover. "Holy Bible" it read in gold letters. Holy. It was certainly Holy here; he remembered trained clergymen who read its words without half the zeal Eliza exhibited in just listening to them. She was so passionate. Yet... he didn't think he could ever give his faith to anything ever again.

He entered the kitchen where the mother and her three children cleaned up after supper and bantered good-naturedly. She noticed him and smiled. He smiled back, and wondered at how much they seemed to do that around here.

"I... should go."

She looked sad for some reason. "Well, if you must. Will we see you again?" Her eyes were hopeful.

He glanced at the expectant faces all fixed upon him and settled on Henry's. He nodded looking back at the mother. "I think so." Pausing a moment, awkwardly, he continued, "I don't even know your name."

"Sally. Sally Pennington."

"Well then Sally, I'll see you again."

With that he slipped out into the cold night. But something besides his torn coat was keeping him warm.

Summer clung to everything, reluctant to release its grip. Warren wandered down the alley, reluctant in a way to reach his destination. As he approached the Pennington house, he saw three children playing in the street. One glanced up at the sound of his footsteps, and he recognized Henry.

"Hey! Its the Angel!"

Henry came racing toward him, and he knelt to receive him. He tousled the boy's hair and cast a glance over him. "Well, you *have* grown a bit since I saw you last." Henry laughed, and Charlie edged past his brother to greet the angel. "And I barely recognize *you*!" Warren cried with a smile as he hugged both the boys. "Who's your friend?"

The "friend" started giggling uncontrollably. Shaking her wild black hair out of her face, she raised her chin and looked at him. He could only stare back. "Eliza?"

"Yes Angel!" She threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, amazed at how strong her body was compared to the last time he had held her.

"Momma, Momma!" he heard Henry calling. "The Angel's back!"

Sally appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping something with her apron. She smiled warmly when she saw Warren. "So he is. Come in!" With Eliza skipping at his side, he did.

After tea the children went off to do their chores and Warren was left alone with Gran. He gazed after Eliza, and said almost to himself, "She's changed so much, yet she's still the same sweet child..."

"And we thank you for that."

It took him a moment to realize he'd spoken aloud, and another to figure out who had spoken to him. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me, Mr. Angel," Gran grinned mischievously at him, glancing up from the mending she was doing. "You've been a busy little angel for the past few months.  
Sally's getting that job that's too good for the likes of her, and that doctor showing up quite conveniently, who just as conveniently refused any payment after curing my granddaughter of something we thought would surely kill her, both happening within a month of meeting you."

He flinched. "If you know that, then you know I'm no angel."

"No angel? Were you listening to me boy? God has answered the prayers of this family, and He used you to do it."

He shook his head again. "I'm not a messenger from God. You... helped me with something, so I thought I'd return the favor."

Her eyes pierced his soul. "You don't have to be willing for God to use you. And don't think for a moment we gave you anything compared to what you have given us. Maybe we, and 'Liza 'specially, helped you rediscover something you'd forgotten, but we never gave you anything. Oh, don't think I didn't see the way you looked when she- when all of them!- touched you. That innocence ain't something you get often is it?"

"No," he turned to the window. "It isn't."

"Not even before."

"No," he spat the word bitterly, wondering if it was her that angered him or the memories she forced him to relive.

"But you had it once."

He paused. "Recently, I... this woman I met. She's... different. I don't know, maybe..."

"Maybe she wants to love you as much as you want to love her?"

He looked at her. "Yeah."

"I think it'll work out for you."

"How do you..." he looked at her suspiciously, then wonderingly. "Do you know?"

"No- nothing like you're thinking. But I've seen a lot of people in my life, son, and I can tell when a couple is going to make it. Good luck and God bless."

He turned back to the window thoughtfully. "God? The one who uses me unwillingly?"

"One and the same. Oh, don't get all huffy. You don't like being used? He's the King of Angels, willing or unwilling. He will make you do things you know you need, yet cannot seem  
to accomplish by yourself. He works even better when you stop resisting and lend a hand."

Warren watched Eliza playing in the street with her brothers, something it was thought she'd never do again only a few months ago. A miracle. That he helped work... Could it be true? No. But...

"You think it was chance that brought you to our door?"

"Yes. No," he frowned, remembering that night. "I felt- strange somehow. Something was calling to me, bringing me here." He whirled around and walked over to her. "What? What was it that was speaking to me? Why... why me?"

She smiled softly. "I can only help you answer part of that. Most of it is up to you- what you decide in your heart. That's where God speaks to you, I'm just here to tell you to listen. Why you? Son," she took his hand, "God loves all his children. He has work prepared for them all."

"His children..." Warren pondered that.

Gran shook her head. "Far be it for me to answer all you questions- we'd be here all year!" She rose from her chair, ambled over to the bookshelf, and pulled down that worn leather-bound volume. Coming over she handed it to Warren. "Here, this should help."

He ran a finger over the golden letters embossed on the cover. "I can't take this."

"And why not? After all you've given us, we can't give you a simple book?"

His eyebrow twitched. "Simple? To hear you carry on it holds all the answers to the universe."

Her smile was as wide as the dawn and as open as the sky. "So it does. But once you figure out how to read it, there's nothing easier to understand in the world. All you need is the Spirit's guidance."

His eyes were drawn to the book; for a moment he couldn't look away. He tore his gaze from it and looked at Gran. Her mouth twitched into a grin but the hand she placed on his shoulder rested with seriousness. "Trust in the Lord."

"I don't know if I can."

"Give it a try. Henry'll try anything once, you want to be beat in the gullibility department by an eight-year-old?"

Warren burst out laughing. "If reasoning doesn't work you'll trying goading?"

She shrugged, a gleam in her eyes. "Whatever it takes. You're a good boy. I want to show you that Someone else thinks that, too."

His hand on the doorknob, prepared to leave, Warren was halted by a tug at his pant leg. He looked down to see Eliza standing beside him. Seeing the book in his hand, she smiled. He knelt to speak to her and she placed a hand lovingly on the cover. "Gran let you have it?"

He nodded. "Is that all right?"

She nodded in return. "We can get a new one. This one is 'specially for you."

"How's that?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes when I would read it I would write things in the margins. Things I knew, but that I wanted someone else to read. I never knew who- but know I do. I made it for you." She grinned with eternal youth, eternal wisdom. "Merry Christmas!"

He smiled back. "Thank-you. Now I have a little something for you."

Outside, the sun shone. It was a perfect day for flying. Eliza screamed with joy as they went tumbling through the sky.


End file.
